


when i got you next to me

by Damkianna



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Denial of Feelings, Extra Treat, F/F, Fix-It, Fuckbuddies, Hints of Femdom, Mutual Pining, Prison Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damkianna/pseuds/Damkianna
Summary: It starts in prison.In the sim yard, to be specific. Nyx wasn't lying: there isn't a lot to do in there. And Two has no idea how long it'll be before they're let out.The sim yard's boring. But the holding cell's worse. At least in the sim yard, there's Nyx.(Or: Nyx and Two start banging in prison, just to pass the time. And then they get sex-pollened, and then they're fuckbuddies. But they're definitely not having feelings or anything. Nope.)
Relationships: Nyx Harper/Two | Portia Lin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	when i got you next to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).



> Your likes list called out to me, and I just couldn't help myself! I hope you enjoy this, and that you've had an amazing F5K. ♥
> 
> Title borrowed from Dua Lipa's "Physical".

It starts in prison.

In the sim yard, to be specific. Nyx wasn't lying: there isn't a lot to do in there. And Two has no idea how long it'll be before they're let out.

The sim yard's boring. But the holding cell's worse. At least in the sim yard, there's Nyx.

They talk, for a while. And then they don't—Two spooks Nyx, though she isn't quite sure how, and Nyx walks off ahead without her. Two takes the opportunity to have a real look around. Not that there's all that much to see. Wide gray sky, dark trees, half-dead grass. The sim yard doesn't seem to have edges; it loops instead, disorienting. If Two walks away far enough with Nyx at her back, then within a few minutes she sees a figure ahead of her, and it's Nyx again, right where Two left her. Weird as hell.

By the time she comes back around, Nyx seems fine again. Calm, smiling just a little, that knowing look Two kind of wants to smack off her face. "Neat little trick, isn't it?" she says.

"Not sure 'neat' is the word I'd use," Two says. "So that's it? This or the holding cell?"

Nyx shrugs, elegant. "Until they let us out."

"And what the hell are we supposed to do until then?"

Nyx smiles. "Oh," she says, light, "I'm sure we can think of something," and before the last word's even out, she's already moving, a quick sharp blow aimed right for Two's face.

Two dodges back out of range, slower than she wants to be but more than fast enough to keep the punch from connecting. "Really," she says, flat, but her heart's already picked up in her chest at the promise of movement, exertion; _doing_ something.

Nyx is still smiling. "I told you, we can't hurt each other. Not for real, not in here. Unless you've got a better idea—"

Two thinks about it. And then she takes a lunging step in and drops to a crouch, swinging a leg out to swipe Nyx's ankles out from under her.

It works, except Nyx takes the fall like she was waiting for it, uses the motion to go into a roll. Damn, she _is_ good.

That was the thing that spooked her, before. As if Two wasn't supposed to notice; but then Nyx doesn't know Two's synthetic, doesn't know Two's got a damn good reason to pay attention to anybody who can keep up with her in a fight. Or—she doesn't seem to, anyway. That's the only thing Two can think, as they circle each other. Nyx must want to figure Two out, understand what it is that lets her move the way she does, more than she wants to keep Two from getting suspicious of whatever's going on with her. Maybe not a lot more. But just enough.

And there is something. There has to be. But if she's not synthetic, then Two can't even begin to guess what the hell it might be.

She's starting to think it might be fun trying to figure it out, though. At least as long as Nyx is willing to let her.

They fight for a while.

It's weird, no doubt about it. There's sensation, in the sim yard—the warden wouldn't have bothered laying cold on top of the dull sky and black trees if there weren't. But it's in response to the original stimulus only: simulated blows landing, simulated kicks finding their targets. There's no actual injury, no lingering ache. The impact, and the moment it's over, it's over.

Evens the playing field, probably, considering the nanites Two's packing. They can't heal her quite that fast, but they can get close.

She can't rely on blows to the muscle to slow Nyx down, can't depend on lingering shock or unsteadiness when she hits a nerve cluster.

Knocking the breath out of Nyx still works okay, though.

She gets a good lunge in, gets Nyx pinned under her. For a second, she's caught, unexpected: something about the contrast, maybe, everything dull and cold and gray except for Nyx, warm, alive.

Two doesn't trust her, isn't sure how much sense it makes to like her. But looking down at her like this, the fall of her hair across the grass, the tilt of her head, the line of her throat—Two can admit she's fucking beautiful.

Not that she should be thinking about that right now.

Nyx gives her a fierce little smile, full of teeth, and swings—catches Two in the shoulder, twists her body beneath Two at the same time. Topples them over, rolls, and shit, this isn't going to help Two quit getting distracted at all: Nyx over her instead of under, between her thighs, slim strong hands catching her wrists. Even these ugly fucking jumpsuits aren't changing the score as much as they should be.

Two jerks one leg up, kicks Nyx back and twists away, rolls to her feet. "Not bad," she says, like she wasn't a inch from closing her thighs around Nyx's waist and doing something really stupid.

And Nyx—

Nyx is watching her like she knows it anyway, like she knows what Two might have done just then, even though she couldn't. She takes a second, wets her lip, finds a stance, and she doesn't look away from Two while she's doing it, eyes dark and steady.

"Gee, thanks," she says, low, warm, and her mouth twists a little at the corner like something's funny.

She closes again almost right away. They'd been keeping back before, jabbing at each other, trading kicks and wheeling in and out of each other's range—but Nyx seems to have something else in mind, now. It's all tight blocks, short strikes, knees and elbows; the weight of Nyx's eyes feels hot, heavy, and Two's helplessly aware of her presence, her body, the space she takes up.

She's doing it on purpose. She's pushing. Two can guess what she's pushing for. And the worst part is, Two kind of wants to let her.

It's a bad idea. They barely know each other. Two still has no idea how she's going to get Three and Four out of Hyperion; how they're going to find the _Raza_ , or One, or Five, or the android. This is a complication she doesn't need. But—

But Nyx knows this place, knows how it works. She'd be a useful ally even if she couldn't fight the way she does.

And she really is fucking beautiful.

Nyx gets behind her, gets an arm around her throat, forearm pinning her at the collarbones—wraps the other arm around to try to catch one of Two's wrists, and the back of her hand just so happens to graze the curve of Two's breast on the way. And that sensation comes through just as well as the rest.

Two doesn't let her breath catch. Swings an elbow back into Nyx's gut, ducks and spins under her arm, hooks her knee and takes her down.

And Nyx doesn't stop her. Could; she's more than fast enough, Two knows that for sure by now. But doesn't.

Drops instead, eyes on Two, and Two follows her down and pins her again, catches her hands at the wrists and holds on tight.

"Getting bored?" Two asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nyx lies there, and shrugs one shoulder. "We can keep going, if you like," she says evenly. "But there are a couple other things to do in here, too."

Two bites down on the inside of her cheek, and doesn't let the look on her face change. But she's conscious, inevitably, of Nyx beneath her: the way her knees are parted around Nyx's hips, the way it feels to have Nyx's wrists caught in her hands. Nyx is breathing hard, mouth parted, eyes dark. Two kind of wants to tell her she could stand to be a little subtler, and kind of wants to tell her to strip that jumpsuit off—half just to see whether she'd do it.

"Just an offer," Nyx says, after a moment. "As good a way to pass the time as any. Up to you."

She's good. Casual tone, easy conversational air. As if Two could say no and she'd shrug and tip Two off her, and they'd go right back to throwing punches.

But there's something in the way her eyes have stayed on Two, in the way she's holding still for Two, that makes Two think she does want it. Even just a little, even if she doesn't want to let on that she does.

And that thought's enough to make Two's skin prickle with heat, enough to make her synthetic heart trip a little faster. She looks down at Nyx, and thinks about it—about holding her down, taking her apart. _Making_ her admit it, making her want it so bad she's pleading for it, not holding back or playing it cool like she has been every second since Two met her.

Probably won't be that easy. But, hell, Two's got nothing better to do in here.

She lets her thighs tense, squeezes them in a little tighter against Nyx's hips, and there's already a dull heavy heat building in her, faster than she thought it would.

"Can the warden see?"

Nyx takes that for the answer it is, and gives Two a hot slow smile. "Nope," she says, and moves underneath Two, sinuous, testing, head tipping back against the grass, throat bared. "Not a direct projection, anyway. Not that interesting, watching us sulk and cuss him out and punch each other in the face. Code readouts, sure. But if he's getting enough out of that to jerk off to, then he's more creative than I've given him credit for."

She might be lying. But she might not be, and Two's kind of starting not to care too much.

"Don't move," she says quietly.

She's still got Nyx's wrists; she catches them both in one hand, squeezes a little for emphasis. The jumpsuits close in the front, zippered. Handy. She catches one zipper in her free hand and drags it down nice and slow.

"Didn't figure you for a tease," Nyx murmurs.

"Not teasing if I'm going to follow through," Two says.

The simulation's got the white undershirts beneath, too. Two shoves the jumpsuit open and slides a hand in there, palms the clothed weight of Nyx's breast like she's just feeling it, seeing what she's got to work with; Nyx's breath catches, and she squirms a little.

"Jesus, come on."

Pushing again. Probably usually works for her. But Two can keep up with her. Two doesn't mind having to push back.

"Don't move, I said," she says, and catches a little of that tender curve between her fingers, and pinches.

Maybe that's not something Nyx is into. Maybe that's not what she's looking for. Maybe she's about to shove Two away and tell her to fuck off—

Nyx gasps, and digs her teeth into her lip, and shivers all over. Damn, she looks good like that.

"Okay," she says after, clearing her throat a little. "Okay, all right."

"Good," Two says, and shoves the zipper down another couple inches.

She could probably let go, get up; make Nyx take it off. But she doesn't want to move away that far. She likes this, likes having Nyx trapped under her this way, just having to lie there and let Two touch her. And there's something about it, about having the jumpsuit open and shoved aside like this, when Nyx is usually so calm and put-together.

Two has to push it a little, lift her own hips and draw the whole front of the jumpsuit taut, to get her hand between Nyx's legs. But it's more than worth it, the way Nyx shakes and squeezes her thighs together, the sound she makes in her throat.

"Don't move," Two reminds her, and rubs the backs of two knuckles against her, and Nyx pants and curses at her and doesn't.

It doesn't take long to get her off, like that. Seems to work her up, having Two holding her by the wrists, having Two tell her what she's allowed to do and when. It was—it should have been an escape hatch, the chance that Two might demand too much and piss her off, might make her call it quits. But instead—

Instead, by the time Two's nudged that simulated prison-issue underwear out of the way and shoved two fingers in her, by the time she's gasping and clenching and shaking apart around them, Two's breathing almost as hard as she is. Two's heart is pounding, Two's face is hot, and she catches herself wanting to lean back, settle herself across Nyx's thighs and just rub herself off.

Shit.

"Goddamn," Nyx says, breathless, when the last aftershocks are done pulsing their way around Two's fingers. She bowed herself up tight, throbbing around Two, head falling back, and Two thought the line of her throat right then was the hottest thing she'd ever seen—that lasts right up until Nyx drags her head up again and looks Two in the eye, and her mouth's wet, bitten deep red. "Okay, okay. Come on."

Two slides her fingers out, gives Nyx a little flick on the way just to make her shudder, and lets go of her wrists. Nyx sits up.

And then—and then reaches for Two, without even waiting to be asked.

"Oh, don't give me that look," she says, voice mostly steady again. "I'm out for myself. Who isn't? But I'm not about to leave you hanging. Bad manners."

Two wets her lips. "Okay."

She'd figured it would turn into one more power play. Nyx trying to get back at her, maybe, for being so—for doing it the way she had. Making Two ask for it, or something. Making sure she understood Nyx hadn't surrendered anything, not really.

"Okay," she says again, and Nyx smiles, leans in close and catches Two's jumpsuit by the zipper, and pulls.

So that's the first time.

In the end, they have two days to kill. They do it a few more times.

It works out fine. It feels good. Makes the whole thing more bearable. Makes it possible to forget, for half an hour at a time, that they're stuck in here.

Then they're let out. They're let out, and there's a whole lot more to worry about besides whether they're going to get stuck in solitary together again.

They break out. They make it back to the _Raza_.

They don't do it again, after that.

* * *

Not for a while, anyway.

Which is fine, Two figures. It makes sense. They were just doing it to distract themselves, because they were trapped together, because they didn't have a lot of other options and they were both up for it.

But they aren't in prison anymore. Nyx is part of the crew now, maybe. If she wants to be; if she stays.

Two doesn't know whether she will. And it would be—it would be weird, too much. It would feel like trying to make her, maybe. Like trying to give her a reason; or maybe just like Two's trying to get a few more good fucks out of her before she does leave.

Either way, it doesn't seem right.

So it's fine. It's good that they aren't doing it anymore.

It's for the best.

Two still thinks about it sometimes. Of course she does. Now that Nyx is on the ship with them, around all the time, it—strikes Two, every so often. Looking at her, her face, her body; the way her hair falls, the way she laughs.

Two hasn't actually touched her. Not once. It was all inside the sim yard. Two's been four fingers deep inside her, she's had Nyx's head between her thighs and held it there, she's used Nyx's hand like a toy to get herself off—and at the same time, she's never touched Nyx at all, not for real.

Sometimes she wonders what it would be like. Whether it would feel the same; whether the simulation got it right. Whether it would be even better—

Not that it matters.

It's fine.

That lasts right up until Tetraxa 3.

It's after the Seers. After Milo.

Nyx is still a mess about it. Too quiet, too serious. Not sleeping enough, drinking too much coffee. It isn't any of Two's business.

Even if it were, she wouldn't know what to do, wouldn't know what to say. She's all too goddamn aware of how she'd _like_ to take Nyx's mind off it: shoving her into a wall, or maybe into Two's bunk; pinning her there, making her wait for it, licking her or fucking her or fingering her right out of her head, until she isn't thinking about anything but Two—

But that's probably not the right way to handle it.

What _is_ Two's business are all those crates of Shadow they still haven't figured out how to unload. They've got plenty, and they could use the payday as much as ever.

After they apply a little pressure, Calchek caves and helps them find somebody who'll take it.

It's not that simple, of course. It never is, for them.

Two figured it wouldn't be, and that's why she takes Nyx.

Nyx has said she's down to a few seconds at best. Two knows that. But a few seconds is enough time to see a knife in the back coming, and when something goes wrong—when, not if, because it definitely will—Nyx has better odds of surviving it than anybody else except Two.

They find a perfectly good spot to land the _Marauder_. They make it to the rendezvous point on time. That part's not the problem.

The problem is that their prospective business partners apparently want to barter for it, instead of just paying cash the way they agreed to start with. And the problem gets bigger when some dissatisfied customers of their prospective business partners show up uninvited, while Two is in the middle of explaining to them that their little bait-and-switch move is not acceptable.

There's a lot of shooting. It turns out to be a good thing that they brought the crates of Shadow along; they make decent cover.

By the time the smoke has cleared, Two's pretty sure there's nobody left who's going to be paying for their Shadow.

Great.

She sighs and takes the time to check out the merchandise that was supposed to be part of the trade, ignoring the guy groaning on the ground right next to it. Looks like odds and ends, mostly. Salvage, dry goods, that kind of thing.

"Might be something in there the kid can use," Nyx offers, looking it over at Two's shoulder. "Parts, maybe."

"Maybe," Two allows. They brought the Shadow along using a hoverlift they found in the _Raza_ 's cargo bay. This stuff probably won't take them over its weight limit, at least as long as it didn't get shot up too badly.

In retrospect, she probably shouldn't have opened the unmarked crate. She probably should have just helped Nyx load everything up, and gotten it back to the ship, and let the android run scans on it and identify it all.

But in the moment, she's hoping they're still going to get something useful out of this goddamn wild goose chase. And she flips the lid up, gets a faceful of what seems to be nothing but reddish dust, and sneezes.

"What's that?" Nyx says, somewhere behind her.

"Don't know," Two answers, twisting her face away, blinking down at it. Whole box of it, just ... just piled-up red dust.

And then Nyx comes closer, leans around to look at it—sucks in a breath and then curses, jerks away. "Close it."

Two closes it. "Nyx—"

"Shit," Nyx says, scrubbing at her face with her hands.

"Nyx, what is it?"

"No time," Nyx says. She's blinking now, swallowing hard, swaying a little on her feet. "No time. We've got to get back the shuttle, _now_."

They don't make it.

Two gets frustrated. Nyx won't say anything useful. She's stumbling, mumbling; hot to the touch, leaning heavily into Two's hands and then jerking herself away so sharply she almost falls. She gets a whole sentence out, about halfway there, almost lucid: "Nanites might take care of it, for you."

She's wrong.

Two starts to feel it about two minutes after that.

She understands, dimly, why Nyx had started to look so dazed, why she couldn't set her feet right. The whole world feels hazy, far away, the air strange and thick. She can still think straight, mostly, but putting words together, getting them out of her mouth, feels abruptly beyond her. Walking in a mostly straight line seems to be taking almost all her concentration anyway.

And then Nyx stumbles into her, and it's like a shock of rain, sweet fresh air, cutting through everything else. The touch of her, the weight of her, the brush of her bare hand as she tries to steady herself on Two's arm.

Except she isn't steadying herself, not this time. She's holding on tight.

"Sorry," she gasps out, and tugs Two in, and kisses her.

Two got a bigger dose, and she got it earlier; but the nanites have slowed it down. Her reaction's maybe ten, fifteen minutes behind Nyx.

"Nyx," she says into Nyx's mouth, catching Nyx by the shoulders, holding her off. "Nyx, wait."

" _No_ ," Nyx says, gasping. "No, please. Please—"

Her eyes look almost black, her pupils huge and shocky. She's trembling, a fine shiver going all through her, and Two touches her face and she makes a soft desperate sound, turning into it, grasping for any part of Two she can reach.

"Please," she says.

Two digs her teeth into her lip, and makes herself think. It's like slogging through mud. There's something they have to do. Somewhere they're supposed to be.

"The shuttle," she dredges up, after a minute. "We have to—we have to get to the shuttle. You can make it that far. Can't you?" She touches Nyx's chin, her cheek, makes Nyx look at her. "You can make it that far for me. I know you can."

Nyx sucks in an uneven breath and bites her lip. "Two," she says, unsteady, pleading.

"Come on," Two hears herself say. "You can take it," and fuck, that came out all wrong, and Nyx shudders a little and makes a soft sound in her throat.

She tries. They make it to the _Marauder_. Two even manages to get the hatch open.

But they don't get through it, because Nyx presses her up against the hull and shoves her hands up under Two's shirt, opens her mouth against Two's neck and licks, and Two loses her mind.

She remembers the rest in hot blurred snatches. Twisting around, under Nyx's hands. Taking her by the jaw, forcing her mouth open—sucking on her tongue. Shoving her down, pushing her thighs apart, following the swell of her breasts beneath her shirt with greedy fingers and listening to her gasp and cry out. The rest of the world distant and at the same time suffocating, and the only thing in focus, the only thing she wanted, was Nyx's mouth, Nyx's skin, Nyx's hands.

Real, she remembers thinking. Real. Everything she'd ever done to Nyx in the sim yard, twice over, and this time it was real. This time it _counted_ , and she'd felt dimly smug, self-satisfied, fierce and greedy and drinking it down like she would never get enough.

It hadn't hurt them.

It hadn't hurt them, and they hadn't hurt each other. It's excruciating, getting checked over by the android after, having to answer her blandly pleasant questions about what happened and why. Two grits her teeth and gets through it, and then goes to the exercise room and punches a wall for a little while.

It makes her feel better. Sort of. And it's not like her nanites can't fix her up good as new when she's done.

She's not going to avoid Nyx. That would be stupid. And pointless, too. They're going to have to talk about it, and the sooner they can get it over with, the better. That shouldn't have happened, but it did, and it's fine. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Two isn't going to make any assumptions, any demands, just because they—just because they did what they did in the sim yard, and then managed to get themselves drugged out of their minds. They can acknowledge it and move on, leave it behind.

It seems clear enough, when she lays it out like that for herself in her head.

Less so, though, when she's actually looking Nyx in the face.

"Listen," she makes herself say, and then grinds to a halt.

"Sorry," Nyx says.

Two blinks.

Nyx shrugs a shoulder. "I wasn't very helpful. I don't think I even managed to tell you what it was. Couldn't put the words together. Diinan k'pak," she adds, as if it matters now. "Or at least that's what they call it on the planet it's native to. A controlled substance, in most of the galaxy, but it's used to debilitate, to distract. And occasionally to facilitate political marriages." She offers Two a cool smile. "Essential data for predicting the course of events in the galaxy, apparently."

"Apparently," Two says slowly.

"It works better," Nyx says, a little more quietly, "the more you've been—holding back."

She flicks Two a quick glance, and then wets her lips. Still not real subtle, Two thinks, almost wanting to smile—except, subtle or not, it works, because Two can't help watching her do it anyway.

"I figured maybe you already had somebody, on your crew."

"Our crew," Two says.

Nyx looks at her.

"You're on it now," Two says.

And that makes Nyx's gaze go warm, softens something in the line of her mouth that had been steady, practiced, before.

"I figured maybe you already had somebody," she repeats, and takes a half-step nearer. "Maybe that was why. Except I haven't seen you touch any of them, since Hyperion."

Two lowers her gaze for a second, tacit acknowledgment, and then lets it sweep back up.

Nyx takes another half-step toward her; close enough to touch, now. "Maybe that's not how you do it," she allows, low. "Maybe you made an exception, when you weren't sure you were ever going to see the _Raza_ again, but that's not how you run your ship." She reaches out, and runs two fingers lightly, barely there, the ghost of a touch, up the outside of Two's arm—to her shoulder, the side of her throat, thumb coming to rest just at the dip of her collarbone. "Or maybe you were waiting for an offer you liked the look of."

Two ignores the spark of heat leaping its way up her spine, and keeps her eyes steady on Nyx's face. "Is that what this is supposed to be?" she says evenly. "An offer?"

"If that's what you want it to be," Nyx says, and for a second Two almost resents her for making it look so easy. But then she hesitates, mouth pursing, and her gaze skitters away and then back, the most uncertain Two thinks she's ever seen Nyx look. "I—didn't expect this. I didn't think you'd take me with you, and I didn't think you'd help me. I didn't think you'd let me stay, even after I tricked you. And I definitely didn't think we were going to get ourselves dosed with diinan."

Two snorts; and Nyx grins for a second, pleased, teeth showing, like it means something to her to have made Two laugh.

"But here we are. And I like fucking you; and I think you like fucking me. So if you want to do it again—" She stops, mouth slanting. "I would," she says after a moment, and it comes out oddly soft. "I will. If you wanted to, if you asked. And I thought maybe you should know that."

Shit. What the hell is Two supposed to do with that? She bites the inside of her cheek and makes herself wait, doesn't let herself move; she should think about this. She should take her time. It's—dangerous. Isn't it? It feels dangerous, somehow. She wants it too much for it not to be.

But that also means she wants it too much not to take it, when it's dangling right in front of her.

"You would, huh," she says quietly, and takes a step herself: backs Nyx up, once and then again, guides her on an angle until she comes up against a wall. And Nyx lets her, lets her and doesn't look away, already biting her lip hard.

"Yes," Nyx says. " _Yes_. Two—"

"Good news," Two murmurs, sliding a hand into her hair, tugging her head back, leaning in to press her mouth against the line of Nyx's throat. "This is an offer I like the look of."

"I thought you might," Nyx says breathlessly, and then Two bites down and she finally stops talking.

* * *

So after that, they're fucking.

They're fucking a lot. All the time.

It's better than it ever was in prison, in the sim yard. They can do it in a bed now if they want to, for one thing; it isn't fucking freezing every single time, either. Two can take her time, strip Nyx naked, touch her all over—take her own clothes off, too, a piece at a time, if Nyx earns it.

They don't talk about it, not really. They don't talk about the fucking in general, and they don't talk about the thing where Nyx does what Two tells her, where Two makes her wait, makes her beg, makes her keep her hands where Two puts them.

Sometimes it's fast, barely even ten minutes, shoving each other up against a wall in the exercise room and pushing their thighs between each other's legs. Sometimes Nyx shows up in the corridor outside Two's quarters, late, ship's night, and Two lets her in, and they tumble into Two's bed and kiss until their mouths are sore, eat each other out by turns for half an hour at a time.

Nyx doesn't stay, after. Nyx doesn't stay, and Two doesn't ask her to.

She doesn't want it to get tangled up with all the other things she tells Nyx to do. She doesn't want Nyx to do it like it's part of the fucking.

She keeps it casual, the same way Nyx does. She doesn't get needy, clingy. She doesn't ask for more than it's reasonable to expect Nyx to give her.

It's an easy mistake to avoid, and Two avoids it.

Then they find out about Eos-7.

They find out about Eos-7, and they decide to do something about it.

It goes fine, mostly. Right up until they spot Ryo, anyway. The odds of anybody else on that station recognizing Five, especially in the getup Truffault put together for her, are miniscule—but Ryo will know her in an instant. Sometimes Two almost wishes they could get him back on the _Raza_ , wipe his memory all over again. Ryo is a killer, a threat, an unpredictable problem. Four—

Four, she misses.

And Four, she could have trusted not to give Five away. But Ryo, not so much.

The android spots a looping camera in one of the secondary docking bays. Ferrous's exit strategy, it seems—but it'll cover the _Marauder_ 's entry, too, with the security on the station none the wiser.

That's all the opening Two needs. She didn't like the thought of leaving Five to handle things alone, but with no way to make the approach, they'd had to; she'd made herself bear it. But now they've got an in, and they're sure as hell going to use it.

She makes the decision in a split second. "You've got the bridge," she tells Six, giving him a long steady stare he can't miss. Leaving him here, she's trusting him to have their backs, and by the look on his face, the grave little nod he gives her, he knows it.

And then she, Three, and Nyx go get themselves dolled up.

The dress feels ridiculous. But it looks right, and that's all she needs. She'll leave the complaining to Three.

Nyx is a little late making it to the _Marauder_. She's in red, deep and vibrant, flowing, cut high in the front and then dipping all the way down to the small of her back. She looks—good. Almost good enough to distract Two from the fingers she's got pressed into the crook of her elbow.

But not quite.

"Something wrong?" Two says, hands at the console, already firing the _Marauder_ up.

"Not a thing," Nyx says coolly. "Just figured I better dose up before we left."

Her voice is so calm, so even, Two almost doesn't realize what she means by it—that she's talking about Shadow, that she just _shot herself up_ with the same exact crap the Seers kept her strung out on for fucking _years_.

"Excuse me?" Two bites out.

Nyx's face doesn't change. "You've got your nanites," she says. "He's got—" She pauses, and deliberately turns to look Three up and down. "A really big gun."

"Damn right I do," Three contributes, with a smirk.

"Even if it can't always hold a charge," Nyx adds sweetly.

"Hey!"

Nyx looks back at Two, serious again. "And I've got this," she says. "This is the one thing I can do better than anybody else. Let me do it for you."

Two lets her eyes fall shut for a second. It's—it's always so damn hard to think, when Nyx looks at her like that. "Fine," she says, when she can do it steadily. "But next time you want to pull a stunt like that, you tell me first."

"All right," Nyx says.

They take off.

By the time they reach the station, the Shadow's kicked in. Two can tell by the look in Nyx's eyes, the way her gaze jitters a little every few seconds: seeing things nobody else can see. Two had been planning for them all to split up, take the tarium detectors the android put together and cover as much ground as possible; but she doesn't want to leave Nyx alone like this. Besides—not much of an advantage, seeing the future, if she's got to comm them both and tell them about it. Even with the Shadow, she's probably looking thirty seconds out, maybe a minute at the most.

Two sends Three off in one direction, with a detector. And then she draws Nyx's hand through her elbow, and starts walking.

"Sticking together?" Nyx murmurs.

"Sure," Two says. "It's a good cover. Arm candy."

"You're too kind," Nyx says, but she sounds warm, amused; she doesn't pull her hand away.

It _is_ a good cover. It's also weird as hell. The upper levels of the station aren't packed like the delegates' hall, but they aren't empty, either. They pass people in the corridors every five, ten minutes. Nyx draws in close, pretends to murmur in Two's ear—kisses her cheek, once and then again. Affection, nearness, for its own sake.

In other words, none of the ways they've ever touched each other before, for all the times they've fucked.

Two tries not to let it get to her. It's unfamiliar, that's all. They'll get through this and get back to the _Raza_ , and then Nyx will stop; it'll go back to the way it was before. They'll fuck. It'll be fine.

Her skin feels hot. Her heart is pounding. She tells herself it's because they're on the clock, because this place is about to blow up and they still don't know why. It has nothing to do with Nyx's gaze lingering on her face, knowing, heavy-lidded; it has nothing to do with Nyx's smooth corporate-lipsticked mouth against her cheek.

She checked the layout before they came. They have to be close now. Another couple corridors—

"You want to talk to Ryo."

Two turns, startled. Nyx slows to a stop, doesn't let go of her arm—her eyes are wide, her face lit up with sudden comprehension.

"Yes," Two admits.

"It won't help," Nyx says, soft and sad and certain.

Two lets her eyes fall shut.

And then, after a moment, Nyx adds more slowly, "He wants this."

Two looks at her.

"The Seers. The Seers had all the data there was on the state of the galaxy, the major players, their resources. They'd have seen it. Two, it's—there are corporations backing Pyr in the war against Zairon. They won't be able to sustain that kind of commitment once they're fighting a war of their own."

Two wants to argue. Four—she'd like to think Four wouldn't start a war on purpose, even if he believed he knew how. But Ryo? Ryo surprised even the Seers, even Nyx, with the massacre in the throne room. And maybe it's about time Two accepted that she doesn't know what he would or wouldn't do. Not anymore.

And then Nyx's hand tightens on her arm, sudden, convulsive.

Two frowns, and sets her own over it. "Nyx?"

"It isn't just Ferrous," Nyx whispers, eyes wide, fixed in the middle distance on nothing Two can see. "Two, it isn't just Ferrous. It's _him_."

The GA won't listen to them. The station's core overloads.

Two's trying to find Five, when it happens; she already sent Nyx back to the _Marauder_. She can hear Nyx shouting for her, over the comm. The station shakes. Even with synthetic reflexes, Two almost falls. She has no idea where Five is.

She isn't going to be fast enough, she thinks, and that's when the bulkhead beside her blows.

A shriek of air, a rush of motion. The world goes silent. There's no floor, no ceiling; she doesn't know which way is up. She can't see. She can't breathe.

And then, suddenly, something's touching her. There's motion, soundless but perceptible. She's—she has mass again, weight. Gravity.

A hiss. A thud: she can hear now. A voice.

" _Two_ ," Nyx says, breathless, frantic, and then there are hands, warmth; Nyx's slender clever fingers, scraping away the shell Two's nanites formed around her.

Two jerks, and gasps, and breathes.

"Two—oh, god—"

"Nyx," Two manages, and reaches for her, clumsy, fumbling.

And Nyx catches Two's hands, lowers her face to them: turns and presses a kiss to the heel of one, almost absently.

"Nyx, I'm okay."

Nyx laughs, wet and unsteady. "There were almost a hundred ways you could have died in the next minute, you know," she says. "I saw them all."

"I'm okay," Two repeats, and Nyx shakes her head, curls in over her and presses their foreheads together.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispers.

And she must see it coming. She must see it coming; Two's given her all the data anyone could ask for.

Two frees one hand, finds Nyx's chin with it—tilts her face in just a little, and kisses her.

Not hard. Nothing like it. Soft, slow. Almost closemouthed. Just for its own sake. Just because she can.

"You didn't," she tells Nyx, when it's over. "You didn't. You won't."

And Nyx looks at her searchingly for a long moment, and then starts to smile.

"Come on," Two adds. "Help me up. We've got to get back to the _Raza_."

"Aye aye," Nyx murmurs, and clasps her by the wrist, and pulls her to her feet. "Let's go."


End file.
